


The Match Girl And The Phantom

by vfrankenstein



Category: Den Lille Pige med Svovlstikkerne | The Little Match Girl - Hans Christian Andersen, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Family, Frostbite, Gen, I mean it's based on a cantata., Little!Erik and Christine, New Year's Eve, Oneshot, songfic???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vfrankenstein/pseuds/vfrankenstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Christine were the little match girl? Cold and exhausted, little Christine falls asleep in someone's doorway. But whose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Match Girl And The Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a throwback--this is the first fanfic I ever actually wrote. It was inspired by a Conspirare Choir performance of David Lang's _The Little Match Girl Passion_.

It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and the darkness, seven year old Christine stumbled through the streets. She had had on a pair of slippers when she left home, but had lost them in running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One had been seized upon by a dog who ran away with it down a alleyway, and the other she could not find. So little Christine went on barefoot.

In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. She had not sold one match the whole day, nor had anyone given her so much as a penny. She dared not return home, for she knew that if she did not bring home any money her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was hardly warmer in their little flat than out here in the cold streets of Paris. Cold and exhausted, Christine curled up on a doorstep and soon fell fast asleep.

Thirteen year old Erik sat in his chair by the fire, reading a book. He was waiting for his guardian, Nadir, to return with food for their New Year's dinner. Suddenly, the door burst open and Nadir stumbled in, holding a little girl in his arms. Her lips were blue and the hem of her ragged little dress was caked with mud, but little Erik thought she looked like an angel.

"I found her on the doorstep," said Nadir, gently laying the unconscious Christine down on the little sofa, "She's nearly frozen, Erik! Fetch a blanket!" Erik ran upstairs and retrieved the quilt from his bed. He gently wrapped it around the sleeping girl, trying to touch her as little as possible. Surely she would not wish to come in contact with his monstrous skin. After a few moments, Christine's eyes opened, and she beheld a skinny little boy in a black mask standing over her.

"Are you my angel?" little Christine asked, her blue eyes widening. Nadir laughed.

"I think she likes you, Erik," he said, grinning at the boy. Tears welled up in Erik's golden eyes. He had been called many things in his short life, but never angel. He began to cry.

"Don't cry, angel!" Christine said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him, "We're in Heaven, aren't we? Nobody needs to cry in Heaven!" Erik hugged her back.

"I am no angel," he said through his tears, "And this is no Heaven. You were asleep on our doorstep, and Nadir brought you inside."

"Oh," she said. Erik thought she would pull away when she learned he was not an angel, but she didn't. He was crying, and in Christine's experience, people who were crying needed hugs. So she kept hugging him.

"My name's Christine," she said after a few minutes, "What's your name?"

"Erik," he said shyly.

"Can we be friends, Erik?" she asked, hugging him tighter, "I like you."

"I like you too, Christine," he said. Nadir smiled at the pair of them. Erik rarely had the opportunity to talk to other children, and here was this sweet little girl who seemed to have taken a fancy to him. Nadir hoped they would become great friends.

"Would you like to celebrate New Year's with us, miss Christine?" Nadir said, smiling. Christine nodded vigorously.

"Oh yes, monsieur, if it's quite alright," she said, politely. That evening, they enjoyed the first of what would be many pleasant dinners gathered around Nadir's large mahogany table.


End file.
